


Terrify, He Said

by You_Light_The_Sky



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Murder, Yandere Sans, murder comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Light_The_Sky/pseuds/You_Light_The_Sky
Summary: Male Reader is a psychological thriller writer who wants to write realistic murder. Horrortale Sans has been on the surface for a few years, but can’t shake off the taste of human, so he kills the bad ones. They both meet each other through a dating site. It’s love at first date.ForPhantomDreamshadeInspired bythis tumblr prompt





	Terrify, He Said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhantomDreamshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomDreamshade/gifts).



> Gift fic for PhantomDreamShade in our holiday exchange. Sorry it’s late! (please go read their Undertale fics, they are amazingly creative!)
> 
> Inspired by [this tumblr prompt](http://tetsuskitten.tumblr.com/post/177774789823/infinityonthot-fangoddess817-endreams-s)

The body’s heavy, and the damn corpse starts to leak red all over the carpet. Stars, Papyrus is going to throw a fit again if he finds out. Sans hopes he’ll remember to wipe away the blood by the time he gets to the basement. But who knows with the crack in his head these days?

But with his bloody hobby these past few years, Sans feels like he remembers things better. His therapist thinks all their emotional sessions with him have helped. Sans is pretty sure it’s because he still murders humans from time to time.

Just the bad ones.

Tonight’s human is a rotten one. The guy had tried to burn down the Queen’s home. So Sans took care of him. The human had had a lot of energy to spare, actually made Sans work for the kill. Otherwise, Sans would have teleported him to the basement immediately. But his energy had been spent on making the filthy human suffer and now Sans has more work to do.

“bet you’re _dying_ to know what I’m gonna do with ya, eh, terry?” Said human’s gouged head keeps knocking against the floorboards. “welp, not gonna bury ya. that’s for sure. not worth the trouble. you’ll just have to see what’s on the _menu_ tonight. heh.”

Quite suddenly, the lights flash on. And there Sans is, _red-_ handed, with a body, as Papyrus glares down at him.

“um.”

Papyrus crosses his arms. “REALLY, SANS?!”

“it’s not what it looks like.”

“SO YOU’RE _NOT_ DRAGGING ANOTHER CORPSE INTO OUR BASEMENT FOR FUTURE LUNCH AND DINNERS?!”

“not for dinners exactly, more like breakfasts, brunches, in-between-meal-snacks—”

Papyrus throws his hands in the air.

“SANS, YOU _PROMISED_ TO LIMIT THE KILLING TO ONCE A MONTH! AND ONLY THE BAD ONES!”

“this _is_ a bad one, bro! he tried to burn down tori’s house! that’s vile and evil!”

“BUT IS HE AT LEAST AN EIGHT ON THE BADNESS SCALE WE TALKED ABOUT?!”

“…” Sans avoids his brother’s gaze. “…no.”

If Papyrus had any hair to pull out, he might do that now. “THEN WE SHOULDN’T KILL HIM! HE NEEDS TO BE BROUGHT TO THE POLICE! TO HANDSOME JUNIOR OFFICERS LIKE ME! IF YOU CONTINUE KILLING RECKLESSLY AT THIS RATE, YOU WILL GET CAUGHT!”

“but pap—”

Papyrus only sighs. “I _Know_ , Brother. I Know. You Need To Kill To Stay Sane. But _Still_. This Isn’t Healthy. You Can’t Risk Exposing Yourself. You _NEED_ A Hobby! Try Star-Gazing Again! Or Go Out And Meet People! Join a Club Or a Gym! Go Out On a Date If You Have To! Just Please, _PLEASE_ , Don’t Kill So Recklessly.”

The silence feels all too familiar and unpleasant. Sans tries to think of a joke, something to break it, maybe apologize, but before he can, Papyrus gives him a sad smile, and says, “SCOOT OVER AND GIVE ME THE OTHER ARM. YOU’LL TAKE FOREVER IF YOU KEEP _DRAGGING_ ON LIKE THIS.”

And with that, Sans starts to chuckle and thinks, in their blood-stained room, that maybe things aren’t so bad.

*

When they came to the surface, he’d tried his best to be ‘normal’ again, to be the Sans he used to be. The little girl who’d freed them (unlike that damned Frisk) had helped him feel something like hope again. Even his mandatory therapist, Doctor Cee, helped. But the rotten nature of humans, their evil, was too hard to ignore.

No, not only that, his craving for human meat was _impossible_ to ignore.

Sans started killing again. To rid the world of filthy humans. To taste human flesh again. And he hasn’t stopped since.

*

As Papyrus quietly helps Sans cut and preserve the meat from Terry into their colossal freezer, Sans feels a vague echo of guilt tugging at his soul. Before Queen Undyne’s reign, Sans would never have let his brother anywhere near his own sins. But now Sans can’t bring himself to care as much. Papyrus has seen too much horror. To lie, would be to spit on what it took for Papyrus to survive underground too. But a part of the old Sans whispers that he can do better.

“…i’ll open a dating profile tomorrow on one of them human sites. how hard can it be to catch a human?”

Immediately, Papyrus’s face lights up. “REALLY, BROTHER?! YOU’LL TRY?!”

Sans makes himself smile. “sure pap.” For his brother, he can try to care.

*

On second thought, staring at the massive amount of dating sites and apps available is like wading through his giant sock pile to find a matching pair. Why in the Stars do humans need so many different sites to meet each other?! Or monsters for that matter?! And one app has Sans have to swipe right or left to find someone to talk to?

Nope. Too much work.

Sans spots a dating app that automatically matches people based on their internet search history. Hmmm. That could be interesting. He could meet a lot of rotten human souls based on his internet search history of ‘ _how to hide a body’_ and ‘ _best ways to stab someone so lots of blood comes out._ ’ Kill two birds with one stone, be more social and find more prey. Much better than playing house with some random strangers.

He chuckles and immediately clicks on the site.

Looks like all he has to do is put in a username, age, and what his preferred genders are for a partner. Then the app does the rest. Nice.

He types in **comic_sans** as his username and puts up an icon of a sock. Very risqué. Then he waits for the results to come in…

*

 _Blood gushed out of his throat and splattered on the walls like… like…._ You paused and tried to think of a suitable metaphor. Like butterfly prints? No, too cute. Too Hannibal. Like amoebas? Nah, that would be stupid. You’re not writing about aliens, just a good old murder.

For the thousandth time that night, you just stare hopelessly at the screen. “Why can’t words just appear when I think about them?”

Your cat, Krueger, meows unhelpfully from her place on your lap.

Before you can bury yourself in junk food and Netflix, or stare hopelessly at the screen again, a notification pings at the bottom corner of your screen. Curiously, you click on it and realize that DateMate has finally matched you up with someone to talk to.

When you squint, you realize that you and this **comic_sans** person have a 95% compatibility from your internet search histories.

You jump up, poor Krueger yowls as she falls on the floor. “Sorry girl! Just, really excited! And nervous! Must be a fellow writer! In the _same genre as me!_ Gotta type up a reply _right now_.” First impressions are supposed to be important. That’s what your younger sibling says anyways.

But you need to think of something interesting to say. What if this guy gets bored of you? What if he finds out that you write horror and thrillers for a living and decides he can do better? Nope, better show him how weird you are from the get-go and face rejection now rather than later. Your sibling Cee can’t complain then.

Thus, you find yourself typing up the most absurd question you can think of.

 

 **Quill_it:** just curious but if you were to describe what blood splatters look like after a slash through the throat, how would you describe them?

 

There. You nod to yourself. Now **comic_sans** knows that you’re weird. If he’s curious, he’ll ask further questions. If not, well you tried, and now you have a legitimate excuse for your writer’s block if your hard-ass editor asks about it.

Now to resume your previous task. Staring at the screen. Thinking of metaphors…

A ding interrupted your thoughts.

 

 **comic_sans:** a _dead_ awful mess, of _corpse_

 

Unexpectedly, you found yourself laughing. A guy who makes morbid puns! And isn’t put off by your random questions! Yes!

 

 **Quill_it:** omg if I ever wrote that, I think my editor would murder me

 **comic_sans:** a writer eh? well, you could take a page out of my book, and tell your editor that it’s all _pun_ and games here. writers are masters of wordplay.

 

You snort, glad that **comic_sans** can’t actually hear you.

 

 **Quill_it:** urgh, if I actually was, I could get past this writer’s block. I don’t know if I should describe the blood splatters in this scene like butterflies or amoebas or what, it’s just not working for me

 **comic_sans:** well is it random person describing this or the killer?

 **Quill_it:** the killer. trying to get into his headspace is hard

 **comic_sans:** don’t know how many humans you can fit into a killer’s head, im just a numbskull, but i bet the way the blood looks doesn’t matter as much. same old red, ya know? but other senses. the smell. the warmth of the blood. the look of pain on the victim’s face _. that_ would.

 

For a minute, you forget to breathe. Several seconds pass.

 

 **comic_sans:** hey you okay buddy? did i chill your bones?

 **Quill_it:** No, no, that was _BRILLIANT._ I’m such an idiot! I was so focused on getting the perfect metaphor I forgot the most important part of writing! _Show,_ don’t tell. _Paint_ the story for the reader using the senses. _OF COURSE,_ a serial killer would focus on smell and touch, that’s so visceral, that’s so good, I’m writing that down. Oh my god, dude, thank you.

**comic_sans is typing…**

**comic_sans is typing…**

**comic_sans:** don’t mention it

*

Sans tries to will away the red blush on his cheekbones. This is _nothing_. Humans are tricky, dirty, and charismatic, especially when they’re determined. This Quill guy is just trying to flatter Sans. Probably looking for his next victim with the convenient excuse of being a horror writer. Quill has a pretty good cover for a potential rotten soul. Sans would know, being the expert at deflecting questions.

 

 **Quill_it:** Sorry, was that a bit weird? Hope you don’t mind. My sibling says I’m strange. I love talking about writing and I can go on and on about writing styles and horror movies and video games

 **comic_sans:** why write as a killer?

 

 _Why such an obvious yet brilliant cover for your rotting soul?_ Sans interrupts before the human can trick him further. _Show me your flaws._

 

 **Quill_it:** Well, I write horror and thrillers. I can’t help but feel fascinated by the dark side of human nature. What would make a character slip over the moral boundaries that our society has dictated? Why would they do that? How far can a character go before they become completely irredeemable? How charismatic can a character be until audiences feel divided on the character? I guess writing is like dissecting people and I want to keep dissecting until I find out how they tick.

 **Quill_it:** Sometimes I wonder if that makes me a bit messed up but I can’t help it. I just have to know what makes people kill.

 

A delightful shiver makes its way down his spine. The magic around Sans practically vibrates, making the pens and socks in his room float up in little circles. This… this human _has_ to be like him, _has_ to be a killer. Sans has never met anyone who could articulate his own fascination with tearing apart the rotten human souls on the surface. At first, it had been because human meat had become a black market delicacy and, like human drugs, unhealthily addicting. But the more Sans hunted for rotten souls, the more he tore them apart, the more he wondered what made them tick. What made them so different from monsters? What made Sans so different from humans?

When he killed, he felt like the Judge again. He felt like the best of pre-Frisk Sans and post-Frisk Sans altogether and it was _glorious_.

 _I’m interested in you, Quill,_ Sans types up before he knows it, Papyrus’s warning about killing nothing but an empty echo in his skull, _we should meet up. See if this works._

See how slowly I can tear you apart, Sans thinks.

*

“Krueger,” you say to your cat, “Krueger look at this. Is this real? Am I dreaming?”

Your cat stares in disinterest at the waiting message on the screen.

 

 **comic_sans:** i’m interested in you. we should meet up. see if this works.

 

“It is!” you start shaking the poor cat. Krueger understandably hisses and scratches your nose. “Ow! Damn it, Krueger! I shouldn’t have done that but really?! I feed you! I let you sleep on my bed!”

Krueger glares down at you somehow, despite being on the floor as if to say ‘bitch please, you know who rules this home.’

Knowing that you will never win in a one-sided argument with your cat, you sigh and sit back in your chair. You can’t believe this. No guy ever wants to date another dude so obsessed with writing horror. Well, sometimes they give you a chance, but only after a few conversations. And for a quickie in the bathroom. The last man you dated left as soon as he saw you started describing the worst ways to torture someone in graphic detail. But **comic_sans** actually seems interested in what you have to say. He even gave you advice!

You want to type ‘yes,’ you _do._ But you can practically hear your sibling scolding you for rushing so fast into this.

(How can you not? The guy makes death puns! And gives constructive advice! That’s almost all your buttons!)

Still, maybe another test is in order… just to see if this guy will stick around.

 

 **Quill_it:** Not sure yet. Can you answer a question for me first?

 **comic_sans:** shoot

 **Quill_it:** How long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts?

 

You sit back in your chair, tapping your foot frantically against the floor. Please don’t log off, please don’t log off or call you a freak…

 

 **comic_sans:** anywhere between 2 to 30 minutes depending on how deep and wide the wound is. gotta factor in the body’s weight and height too.

 

It’s like you’ve been shot in the heart with _feelings_. You’re already wondering if comic_sans likes to be the little spoon, big spoon or switch. You’re planning your gay wedding, probably slasher themed for laughs.

 

 **Quill_it:** are you free tonight for dinner?

*

Yup, Sans thinks, as he types up his reply, Quill is definitely a serial killer with a question like that.

*

“Yes!” You pump your fist in the air. “This guy is definitely boyfriend material! Heh, should use that as a pick-up line.”

Krueger bites you in retaliation.

*

“HOLD STILL, SANS, YOU NEED TO LOOK PERFECT!” Papyrus spins him around again and adjusts the tie.

“s’just a first date. doubt there’ll be another. s’human after all.”

“GASP! BROTHER, DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT! YOU’RE RELATED TO THE GREAT ME, AFTER ALL! YOU’RE 99% THE CATCH THAT I AM! AND THAT IS PRETTY GREAT! NO HUMAN WILL BE ABLE TO RESIST YOU!”

“heh. thanks bro.” That’s exactly what Sans is hoping for. Once he confirms how rotten that human’s soul is (he still goes for sixes and sevens on the badness scale), he’ll be feasting tonight. And making a lot of cash on the black market.

“HMM…” Papyrus narrows his eyes. “YOU’RE BEING AWFULLY COOPERATIVE ABOUT THIS. NORMALLY, YOU HATE GOING OUT IN FORMAL WEAR. YOU _ESPECIALLY_ HATE TIES.”

“ah, well, would you look at the time—”

“ _SANS_!”

“well gotta go—”

“DON’T YOU DARE EAT YOUR DATE—”

He teleports away.

*

You pace back and forth in front of the 1950s themed restaurant. Comic_sans mentioned liking greasy foods, and you _loved_ 1950s aesthetics for the horror movie nostalgia. Your sibling Cee leaned against their car.

“Do I look okay? Is this too fancy?” you gesture to your jeans and hoodie.

Cee covers up their smile. “Big bro, it’s a diner. You’re fine! You look very handsome. It will be fine. And remember, I’m around for ice cream and Saw marathons if the date goes south.”

“You’re the best sib. Alright, stay in your car. I’ll text you if it goes well and then you can go home. Make sure you pay attention when crossing the street and don’t open your car to strangers!”

Rolling their eyes, Cee groans, “I am an adult with an adult job. I will be okay.”

“You’re still my gross little sib, so suck it.”

The two of you stick your tongues out at each other and then laugh. Cee sits in their car, waiting to bail you out if needed, and you wait…

Your phone vibrates.

 

 **comic_sans:** here. im the numbskull wearing a suit and tie.

 

Three things happen. First, you nearly drop your phone as you frantically look for your date. Second, you internally freak out because god damn it, you _knew_ you were underdressed if comic_sans was showing up in a suit and tie. Third, you lock eyes with the most devastatingly striking eyes that you have ever seen in your life.

The skeleton monster stands in front of you, slightly shorter than you, but no less striking. His teeth glint at you as his smile widens, and you can’t help but want to trail your fingers against that smile.

“ _h u m a n,_ ” the skeleton starts, “d o n ‘ t  y o u  k n—”

“Has anyone ever told you,” you say because you have no impulse control, “how deathly handsome you are?”

“i…” the skeleton splutters, “wait what?”

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you realize that he’s wearing a suit and tie. “You _are_ comic_sans right? Oh god, I hope I wasn’t flirting with the wrong guy. It’s just. You’re really hot. And when I get nervous, I ramble a lot. I think that’s why I write, because then I can sort out my thoughts. Otherwise, I just go on and on and—”

“you think i’m hot?”

“Um! Well! Yes! Who wouldn’t?!” You flail your arms around. Gods, you can hear Cee giggling in their car. You are _so_ bad at flirting. Why are you so bad at flirting? Right, raising Cee since you were a kid.

Comic_sans just stares at you.

“Oh no, I hope I wasn’t offensive or anything. It’s just. You really are hot. Urgh, no, I’m doing that again. I’m being rude. Wait, you’re a monster, right?”

This time, Comic_sans just scoffs and grumbles, “what about it?”

“Ah!” no wonder your date is being so standoffish, “Sorry, I completely forgot that I’m supposed to be put into a confrontation with you so you can see my soul.”

Now Comic_sans’s attractive perma-grin seems to fall.

“Um, you know? Because that’s your custom?” At least, that’s what you’ve heard from Cee, who works in therapy with many monsters since they came to the surface. When monsters had first appeared on the surface, there had been a lot of hostility towards them from humans. Since then, it was common practise for humans that wanted to help (like his dear sibling Doctor Cee), to show their souls to monsters they meet as a sign of trust.

“…no it’s fine. i’ll just…” Comic_sans’s eyes glow in a brilliant red and a tugging sensation at your chest pulls out a brilliant coloured heart for only you and him to see.

“Whoa…”

Sure, you’ve seen your soul before. When Cee tried to reveal their soul to show monsters that they could be trusted, you insisted on doing it first to see it was safe. A big brother has to test the waters for their little sib. It never gets tiring seeing the shining colour of your soul reaching out towards you. Souls make you believe in something good, in something better.

You smile up at Comic_sans and hope he can feel what you are, right now.

But the smile on Comic_sans’s face has completely slipped away.

Immediately, you reach out to him. “Hey, what’s wrong—”

“I’llberightback,” he blurts out, and within a blink, he’s gone.

*

Sans teleports right on top of the pot of spaghetti Papyrus has just set out.

“ _SANS!_ ” Papyrus throws up his hands, when the pots, sauce, and noodles go flying into the ceiling fan and walls. “ _WHAT IN THE WORLD—_ ”

“iscrewedup,mydateisactuallycuteandgoodandpure—”

“SANS!” Papyrus tries to pry his brother off the stove.

“—andiwasgoingtokillhimbutthenisawhissoulandfucknowhewillneverdateme—”

“YOU TRIED TO KILL HIM?!”

“ _no!_ ”

Papyrus glares.

“…well, at first i thought he might be a serial killer so i _planned_ to kill him. turns out he’s actually a real writer with a genuinely kind soul and my soul kind of really wants to bone him. heh.”

Face scrunched up in the universal sibling look of disgust and despair, Papyrus wails, “T.M.I. SANS, _T.M.I.!_ ”

“sorry not sorry.”

If Papyrus didn’t love this idiot, he would have tried to cook him by now.

“WELL, HOW ELSE DID IT GO? WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM? MAYBE WE CAN SALVAGE THE NIGHT.” Heaven knows Sans needs some healthy contact in his life that is not just his therapist. Or Papyrus.

Immediately, Sans goes pale.

“shit, i just teleported away as soon as i saw his soul.”

“…YOU WHAT?!”

“i got really nervous okay?! he’s one damn fine soul!”

“SO DON’T TELEPORT AWAY?!?!?!?”

“i needed your advice!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED ME!”

“fine then i will!”

“GO DO THAT! AND TAKE THESE FLOWERS TO GIVE TO THE POOR SOUL AND TELEPORT BACK TO HIM BEFORE HE LEAVES!”

Frantically, Sans takes the offered echo flower bouquet (that Papyrus so kindly prepared for the date before Sans left so rudely earlier) and shoves them into his pockets (what even??) before teleporting away.

Sigh. The things younger siblings do for their older brothers.

*

You and Cee gape at each other from across the parking lot. Your palms start to sweat. You feel a burning in your eyes. Was your soul hideous? Did Comic_sans hate it? Oh no, oh no, you see Cee get out of their car, about to come towards you, when Comic_sans poofs back in front of you with a shaky grin and stunning glowing flowers.

“here. remembered these as soon as i saw your soul. though these flowers aren’t as stunning as _you_ , of course. heh.”

At that moment, staring at this perfect monster who knows the best jokes and advice and google-fu, you know that he’s the one.

*

His finger bones actually feel sweaty in hot magic by the time, he and Quill are seated at a table. He kills rotten humans for an illegal living, he should be able to go on a date!

But then Sans looks at the human’s kind eyes again, remembers how gentle and warm that soul was, and he splutters, hides his face behind a menu. This shouldn’t be so hard. Pre-Frisk, Sans didn’t really date but he was a whiz at flirting. What happened to him? (Frisk. Queen Undyne. Starvation. Desperation. Meat.)

He hasn’t cared about the blood on his hands in a long time, but when he looks at his human date’s soul, he feels the blood dripping down his back.

“Sorry about my little sib earlier,” the human Quill awkwardly says. “Cee was just worried you blew me off earlier. We’re all we have so we really look out for each other. Hope you don’t mind that Cee’s still waiting in the parking lot to see if you’re okay.”

“s’no problem. i get it. i got a little brother too,” and wasn’t Sans surprised to see his therapist Doctor Cee is his date’s younger sibling. Small world. The Doc won’t give him trouble. They’re not the type. Too kind. Like his date.

Quill brightens up. “Isn’t having a little sibling great?”

Sans feels another cold wall in his soul melt. “yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of Papyrus’s help with the flowers. “they really are.”

“Just realized I haven’t introduced myself.” Quickly, the human male says his name. It’s nice but…

“can i just keep calling you ‘quill’? s’how we met, and it suits you.”

Quill laughs. “Sure! Can I call you ‘Comic’?”

Sans snorts. “go for it, if ya want. but my real name is sans.”

“What, really?” the human’s eyes brighten in delight, making Sans’s soul flutter.

The more Quill and Sans talk, the more Sans can feel the genuine good in the human. He finds himself trying to memorize the way Quill’s hands fly up as he talks about writing, the way his eyes light up, seeing some other world that he’s yet to write… Such a different existence than what Sans has lived. Can he really ruin another man’s life by dating him? Quill deserves someone brighter, _better_ , then just Sans…

Bitterly, Sans thinks that if he chases the human away with his true nature, then he won’t have to be hurt later when the human leaves him…

“Metaphorically,” Sans interrupts the human’s mesmerizing rant on writing realistic murders, “if you were to kill someone,” he tries to make his voice as menacing and ‘stranger danger’ as possible, “h o w  w o u l d  y o u  d o  i t?”

He waits for the inevitable look of fear, of doubt. He waits for the human writer to get up and ditch this date, forever safe (gone) from Sans’s grasp.

But Quill laughs, “That’s easy! Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.”

If Sans had any breath, it would have been stolen away by that laugh, that smile, that brilliant answer.

Fuck this, post-Frisk Sans thinks, I’m going to keep him.

He leans over and kisses the human on the mouth.


End file.
